


Of Mazes and Megalomania

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Drama, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brackett has a plan.  What are the odds that it'll somehow involve Jim and Blair?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Mazes and Megalomania

## Of Mazes and Megalomania

#### by Maigret

The majority of characters in this story are based on the television show The Sentinel created by Bilson and DeMeo and are owned by Pet Fly and countless lawyers. I don't own them and get no profit from playing with their creations.   
This story was published in the zine Senses of Wonder 3. I'd like to thank Dolimir for inviting me to participate in the fun and Maggie for her doing the first beta on the story. Many thanks to Kandy for her extremely thorough editing. I tinkered slightly with some vocabulary, so any remaining mistakes are happily mine. Finally, it was a pleasure working with you all.   
Yet another alternate reality I've dabbled in where Sentinels and their guides don't have to hide their abilities.   
Feedback is always appreciated.  


* * *

Simon Banks, the young chief of Tarsus, inhaled his first aromatic blend of coffee for the morning. Sipping the princely and pricey Kope Luwak coffee, he closed his eyes and allowed the flavor to explode on his tongue. From his console behind him, three urgent beeps sounded. Spinning on his heel, he answered the summons, "Yes?"

"Sir, we have a problem."

Dashill, his executive assistant, delivered the news blandly. The chief's insides clenched. Rhonda Dashill was not an alarmist and she usually kept most of the fires under control. When she stated there was a problem, it usually meant a hemisphere-sized disaster.

"What?"

"We've just lost contact with Carl and Buster."

"Both seekers?"

"Yes, sir."

"What have their comps reported?"

"They've also lost contact with them."

Simon Banks reared back. Seekers, who only had three enhanced senses, worked in tandem with their comps and were matched with a compatible pair. The four individuals functioned as a full prime. The seeker whose psychic or sixth sense was enhanced always maintained a constant telepathic contact with his or her comp, often over millions of kilometers.

"How're Ilsa and Cassie doing?" Simon asked perfunctorily as he slid behind the console, his fingers tapping keys quickly.

"How do you think?" was the tart response. "Cassie has taken to her bed in a fit of high drama, and Ilsa is meditating."

"Hmmm." Simon's attention was on the information that was scrolling across the display that had appeared in front of him.

Under her breath, Rhonda added, "Nothing that a couple of sharp shakes wouldn't cure."

"I heard that Rhonda. You know what Cassie is like." Elegant dark fingers continued tapping keys relentlessly as Simon Banks chased information and twisted what slight facts he had around vague hypotheses. 

"I do," the blonde replied darkly. "That's why I'm recommending..."

"What time did the Team lose contact?" Simon broke in.

"2100, sir," was the crisp response.

Simon hit enter and waited for the computer to verify his conclusions. While he waited, he pressed a cleverly hidden depression on the console. To his right, a large drawer opened, seemingly sliding out from air. Heads of state, saboteurs, clients, all manner of people would give their fortune to get a glimpse of these files. In the nanochip age, Simon, as had every chief before him in Tarsus, maintained paper files on his people. It helped, of course, that he had an eidetic memory, and fanning through his files was more therapeutic than informational. The computer hummed. Glancing at the screen, Simon's lips tightened. One name, one name only, remained after the blinking prompt.

"Damn."

From her position in her office, accessing the same display as Simon, Rhonda saw the name and gasped, "Sir!"

"I know, Rhonda."

Simon Banks extracted four slender files and two larger ones.

He arranged them in a loose semicircle on the wide granite desk. This was the worst part of his job--sending a team to their possible death.

* * *

Jim Ellison knocked on the door at the end of the hallway. Unlike all the others along the long corridor, this one was adorned with a small plaque that read, Chief. He entered the large room. Although a damping field was in effect, Jim felt the presence of a comp, a powerful one. He scanned the room and pinpointed the other heartbeat. Whomever it was, sat in a chair that faced the panoramic view. Against his will, he felt his interest rising. His last comp, Jack Pendergrast, had drowned in a freak accident and Jim had wondered when he would be matched.

"Evenin', Cap."

A brief smile crossed Banks' face. Since his promotion to chief of Tarsus, Jim Ellison took every opportunity to needle his best friend gently. This time, Simon did not make his usual disclaimer that he was really chief peon and no one's captain. He also did not offer him a seat. He remained silent, studying his steepled fingers.

Jim's eyes strayed to the figure hidden in the chair. "You found me a comp?" he asked carefully.

"Not really."

Jim sighed. He was tired of waiting to be matched. Being without a comp meant that he pulled reduced duty. "Then, why...?"

"Twenty hours ago, one of our teams went silent. What is unusual is that their comps seem to have lost their bond with them somehow." The handsome black man stopped speaking.

Jim was horrified. A bonded team losing contact with each other was unheard of. "What's happening Simon?"

In a calm monotone, Simon Banks continued, "I selected Rafe and Brown to attempt team retrieval."

"And?" Jim was sickened.

"They also lost contact with their comps, but someone stumbled over their unconscious bodies dumped in an alley close to the Miller Street ramp leading to the northbound I-5 so we were able to bring them back to HQ. Unfortunately, we have not been able to restore them to consciousness and their partners can't connect with them."

Ignoring the other heartbeat he heard in the room, he asked, "What's going on? Who's doing this?"

"Screen." A bright display appeared, hanging vertical above the large desk.

Jim walked around the large desk and began reading the text scrolling up the display. Simon's voice in the background supplemented the dry facts and kept him from zoning.

"Seven years ago, Lee Brackett was recruited for Tarsus. I think you were in Peru at the time so you may not have heard about this. He was the oldest recruit we'd ever had, but he tested high for a prime. His first comp died just after they were fully bonded. We tried to bring him back, but he refused the counseling and reintegration, and to our dismay he would not accept another comp. He finally snapped a couple of years ago and went rogue. He blamed us, all of us at Tarsus, for losing his comp. My predecessor chose to handle him quietly, but was unsuccessful. Since then, Brackett has done minor damage to some Tarsus teams--our objectives and his are sometimes the same--but we've always managed to limit his incursions. This time however, he has bitten us deeply. Carl and Buster went out on a retrieval of a runaway teenaged couple; they went missing." Simon pushed away from the desk and waited for Ellison prime to speak.

"With all due respect Simon, there are other teams out there and I don't have a comp."

Sighing, Simon murmured, "Not yet, but I want to try a new approach."

Tensely, Jim waited for his boss to continue.

"Each time, we've sent in a comp and prime, we've lost them. I am sending in my strongest prime and comp. Jim Ellison, meet Blair Sandburg."

The figure who had been seated in the leather chair emerged slowly. Instant hostility radiated off the two men.

"Simon, he's a child." Ellison protested when he noticed the unlined face containing deep blue eyes, a neat, nearly button nose, a lush lower lip that should be illegal on any man's face, the whole of which was framed by dark brown curly hair with reddish highlights.

The remarkable blue eyes went wide under the slight slash of dark eyebrows. "Hey, old timer, I'm not a child. Been around more'n you."

Jim Ellison, Prime One of Tarsus, sneered, "Been on any missions, kid?"

"Stop, now! Both of you." Simon's voice silenced any further insults.

"Sir, I..."

"That means you, Ellison."

"Wha..." Jim Ellison felt the distinct tickle of another mind against his.

"Shut up, Ellison."

Jim's mouth snapped shut. His eyes, though, promised retribution to the innocent face across the room.

Simon rubbed his short hair. "I know unbonded primes and comps shouldn't be working together. The antipathy between you two will be tremendous even more than usual given your ratings. But..." Simon paused, "You two are the best Tarsus has and your colleagues are depending on you. Now go out there and find them. Ilsa and Cassie are waiting in the solarium. I'll send all the information I have on Brackett and the original retrieval job to your console."

"I felt that, you little runt," Ellison muttered through clenched teeth.

Leaving the office, Blair Sandburg's eyes sparked. "I'm glad," he spat. "I was all set to bond with Samantha. My prime had been chosen. Now I'm stuck with you, the near dead."

Simon Banks shook his head. This was the reason the person who headed the Tarsus Institute was neither prime nor comp. He hoped he'd made the right decision though it was unorthodox. Whistling, he wondered if he should make a side bet with Rhonda that Jim and Blair wouldn't kill each other before they rescued his missing team.

* * *

Jim entered the solarium followed by Blair. Cassie was draped dramatically across a maroon sofa which made her complexion appear bilious.

Blair moved automatically into position next to and slightly behind the prime. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and rested his fingertips lightly on the back of Jim's forearm. The shock of connection slammed into both men. Startled, Blair lifted his fingers hurriedly, as if burned.

The prime spun around to his temporary comp. "What the hell was that Sandburg?"

"Hey don't look at me, man. I'm just the comp here," was the snide response.

Grumpily, Jim turned back to Cassie and Ilsa. Cassie Wells, comp to Carl Fulton, set Jim's teeth on edge on even his best days. This was not even close to a good one.

" Cassie, when did you lose him? Any impressions?"

Gasping, Cassie almost levitated from the sofa and threw herself at Jim Ellison. "Oh, Jim! It was horrible."

Gently, Jim tried to disengage the woman who, within the space of seconds, was plastered full length along his body, and appeared to have become boneless. Normally, the bonded comp would have inserted himself between his or her prime and another comp, preventing contact, but Blair didn't move, and Jim didn't want to request help in disentangling himself.

Impossible to imagine, but Cassie pressed even closer, "You don't have a comp, Jim. I can help." 

An expression of distaste crossed Ellison's features. "Cassie, you're bonded."

Huskily, the redhead murmured, "He's out of contact. He may even be dead."

Baffled, Jim Ellison stared at the woman. He didn't understand how Cassie could ignore the solid presence of the comp beside him.

"Behave yourself, kiddo." Ilsa's harsh voice broke the enforced intimacy between the prime and comp. "They tried to match you with Ellison five years ago, and it didn't take. What makes you think he'll work with you now?" The slender, dark skinned woman walked to the center of the room where the three people stood motionless. "Cassie, that damsel in distress routine is tiresome. The sooner we give Jim the information, the sooner he can find my seeker." Hanging in the air was the unspoken suggestion that Cassie didn't want to find her seeker.

Reluctantly, the young woman pulled away from Ellison.

Standing tall, Ilsa stated, "Ask anything Ellison Prime. My thoughts are yours."

Remembering the presence of the comp beside him, Jim opened his mouth, but was forestalled by a soft touch of reassurance on his back, reinforced by a slight echo in his mind, 'I am here, Prime.' Jim hadn't felt the comp making the necessary mental contact. He spared a thought to wonder at the talents of this comp, but even as he wondered, Ilsa was entering a meditative trance. Pulling his thoughts together, Ellison began the process of questioning Ilsa about any bit of information her seeker might have transmitted back to her. Blair's near inaudible questions, kept him focused and made him pry deeper than he ever had before, almost tasting the texture of Ilsa's memories. Nearly twenty minutes later, he had gleaned all the information the two comps had to offer.

Looking at Blair, united for a short while, Jim smiled victoriously. "Now, the hunt begins."

Blair grinned. "Do you have a plan, Ellison Prime?"

Jim Ellison sobered. Jack had always called him that. Ellison Prime. It went back to the first time they partnered, when Pendergrast was a seasoned comp and Ellison, a newly minted prime. "Don't call me that." 

Warding off the prime with both hands in front of him, Blair said, "It's what you are. What's the...?"

"Just don't call me that," Ellison finished curtly.

Shrugging elaborately, Blair followed the prime when he left the room.

* * *

Ilsa, older and more astute than Cassie, looked at the young woman who had redraped herself across the maroon sofa. "Give it up, Cassie. Ellison's found his comp, and Simon won't break up you and Carl." 

Cassie pouted.

"And Cassie," Ilsa continued kindly, "if you ever stand between me and my desire to get my seeker back, I will tear you apart, and Carl will be able to bond with a new comp."

Shaking her head, Ilsa returned to the cushioned bench. Closing her eyes on Cassie's open-mouthed expression, Ilsa resumed her meditation.

* * *

Emerging from the towering high rise, Blair looked at Ellison. The man stood motionless and appeared to be scenting the air. Blair shook his head in disbelief. 'Imagine, Ellison making a rookie mistake like that.'

"What're you doing?" he asked sharply.

The tall, well-built prime took another deep breath. Blair jostled the man's arm. His reward was a frosty look. "You aren't gonna zone on my watch. You may not be my prime, but I'll be dammed if I won't do all I can to protect you from yourself." 

Chuckling, Ellison said, "Thanks, but I wasn't in danger of zoning."

"Yeah, what was all that sniffing?"

"Just enjoying the day."

"Huh?"

"Look around, Darwin. Cascade. Sun. What's there not to like?"

Understanding dawned, and Blair looked upwards at a rarely seen, bright blue sky. Looking southeast, he caught a glimpse of the starkly etched Cascade ranges, barely visible past the towering skyscrapers in the downtown district.

"Sorry, man. Thought you were trying to catch a stale scent."

"No, Sandburg," Ellison replied with forced patience. "Why do you comps feel we can't be trusted?"

"Because you primes ca..." Blair trailed off. He still had to get this prime through this mission before he could bond with his selected prime. It wasn't necessary to antagonize this one more than necessary. "Sure, man, you didn't zone. It's Okay. So, what's the plan?"

"We try to get captured."

Digesting this, Blair gulped. "Why? Aren't we trying to find where our people went?" Continuing, the young man answered his own question, "And if we get caught, we'll find them."

"Right." Ellison's smile was shark-like.

"Two teams disappeared, the first on a supposedly routine retrieval. Where d'you wanna start?" Catching sight of the smile, Blair mumbled, "The beginning."

"Yeah." Ellison's smile was wider and, if possible, colder.

Pivoting sharply, the prime turned on his heel. Running to catch up with him, Blair Sandburg asked, "And where would that be?" 

"The Wolf and the Thistle."

The comp stopped short. "No way. Don't tell me our team got plucked from that dive."

Scrambling to catch up to the fast moving prime, Blair heard him say, "Okay, I won't tell you."

The young comp shook his head. "If it's the Wolf and Thistle, we're gonna have to see Taggart. He hates primes."

"Yeah, I know." Ellison reached the end of the long street.

Years ago, the Tarsus Institute had closed off to vehicular traffic the T-intersection which fronted their headquarters. No one remembered how, then Tarsus chief, McGowan had managed to get that measure passed, since Tarsus occupied three huge skyscrapers at right angles to each other in a squared U-shape, set in the center of the busy town of Cascade. However, the result was a long walk through a park-like setting before a streetcar could be hailed.

Softly, the prime added, "The last time we met wasn't pleasant."

Shrugging, the comp raised his hand. Primes were a law unto themselves, and it was often only the comp who stood between them and extinction. He vowed to watch Ellison more closely. The more gifted a prime, the more reckless he became with his life.

* * *

The streetcab drew up to the Wolf and Thistle. Two men emerged from opposite sides of the vehicle. Ellison walked around the back of the streetcar. "Now let me do the talking in there."

Blair shook his head, freeing some curly strands from under his collar. "Ellison, you won't get anything out of Taggart."

Maybe it was the utter certainty in the comp's voice that caused the taller man to ask, "How do you know that? You got information out of him?"

The W in Wolf and the Th in Thistle had fallen off the neon sign years ago, but to anyone who wanted information, this drab bar was the only place to trade for it. Standing sentry in front of the short flight of stairs going down to the Wolf and Thistle's entrance was a very large muscular man. Blocking the pathway, the guard's eyes constantly roamed from side to side, and he slapped a short stick against his thigh. "Fuck you, Prime. We don't want your kind here."

Standing near the curb, Jim kept his voice level. "I'm going into that bar, and I will be thrilled to go through you."

Behind him, the comp stepped around the monolith and into the open. "Hi Ken, how're you doing?"

A wide grin split the large, homely face. Jerking his head toward Jim, the guard asked, "How'd you hook up with him?"

"Long story and no time to tell it. Can we go in? I have to talk to Taggart."

Reluctantly, the guard moved aside, clearly unhappy. "Mister Taggart's not going to like this Blair."

Rocking gently on his heels, Blair nodded. "I know, but he'll want to see us." 

Impatiently, Jim interrupted, "You do remember me from before, right, Ken? I'm the one who did go through you. How's the cut on your chin?" Jim pretended to peer at the man. "Ahh, not too bad, that scar will fade in time."

"Dammit!" The shorter comp whipped around to face his prime. "YOU! Shut up, now." He turned back to the guard, "YOU! Let us through. Now!" Opening his mouth to protest, Jim was surprised when the comp spoke, without turning back to face him.

Blair cut across the unformed words. "Shut up!"

Grudgingly, the large guard stepped aside. Blair slipped by his bulk. As Jim passed, the burly man slapped the sticklike weapon against his thigh. In the silence, the resulting crack was earsplitting, especially if one had enhanced senses. Jim slammed his hands against his ears. He had turned up his hearing when he'd emerged from the streetcar. A step ahead of the prime, Blair became aware of Ellison's distress.

"Dammit, Ken." Wasting no more words on the grinning guard, Blair dragged his prime to the heavy door. Pushing it open, he pulled the prime behind him.

The sudden transition from light to darkness forced the prime to dial up his sight. The square grip along the back of his forearm had him dialing down touch. While doing so, Jim also lowered his dial on hearing. The horrible echoing crack disappeared. Gruffly, the prime cleared his throat. So far this unwanted comp was proving to be an efficient irritant. "Let's talk to Taggart." With his sight dialed up, the prime saw the disappointed cast to the comp's features.

Jim continued walking away.

Joel Taggart held court in one corner of the dimly lit bar. In the background, a rich contralto belted out a song about love gone wrong from an ancient machine known as a jukebox.

The prime's steps slowed as he approached the wide table.

"Who let you...Blair?"

"Hi, Joel."

Nonplussed, the prime followed the comp slowly. Blair slid into a vacant seat in front of Taggart. "You've got a problem, Joel."

The prime wondered when he'd lost control of the comp. Since Blair and Taggart were speaking at normal levels, he didn't have to dial up his hearing.

"And what would that be? Besides the obvious of having yet another prime in my bar."

"That would be the problem. See, primes are disappearing after they've come in here."

Taggart scoffed, "Just because I hate 'em doesn't mean that I'll do anything to them." He took a sip of the liquid in the squat green glass in front of him. "Why do you think I'd know what's happening?"

Blair sighed. He could feel the prime's impatience with the verbal sparring he was having with Taggart.

"Joel, I've got a pissed off prime behind me. Wanna tell me what's going on?" Blair raised a hand. "And before you tell me that you don't know, I know you know, and you know I know you know. Not a speck of valuable information gets traded in Cascade without you brokering the deal."

Taggart studied the bright blue eyes focused unblinkingly on him. Spinning the glass, he watched as it wobbled off-center, in danger of falling on its side and spilling the liquid inside.

When he began speaking, it was almost a surprise. "Three days ago, a man came in. He asked that I not interfere with the passage of a number of primes who would be coming through my humble establishment. He told me they would require some information, and I was to give it to them."

"How could you do this to your own kind, Taggart?" Jim spat at the seated man.

Blazing bright brown eyes glared at the standing prime. "How could I do this? What about what they did to me, prime, huh?"

Softly, the comp's voice interjected, "Both of you stop this now. Jim, we need the information he's giving us. You two can sort out your philosophical differences later."

The two primes obeyed imperatives that had been bred into their genes millennia ago. They bristled, but both subsided as they obeyed the guide voice of the companion and turned their attention to Blair.

"Fine. That's better then." Blair unclenched his hands. Although the imperative to protect the comp was strong, sometimes the territorial imperative of primes won out. Not often, but just enough that a comp never allowed him--or herself--to be lulled into a false sense of security and expect the prime to obey each time.

"Taggart, no one sneezes in this bar without you giving your approval. Why'd you allow primes to be abducted from here?"

Taggart's jaw clenched. The sickly sweet scent of fear was rolling off him in waves.

Ellison leaned forward. "What's got you so spooked Taggart? You refused to join the company...." His voice trailed off. "Now why would an unbound prime--" Ellison lunged across the width of the table. "Or maybe not so unbound after all?"

Unfazed by this, Blair held Taggart's eyes. "You're gonna have to tell me what happened Joel. You know that. You know he won't let you go until you do."

Taggart was gasping for air; Ellison had fastened his hands around his neck and seemed determined to choke the truth out of the owner of the Wolf and Thistle.

"Tell me," Blair whispered persuasively using a hypnotic cadence in his vocal tone. "Tell me, now."

"Meg--ggg-gan," Taggart gasped.

"Release him, Ellison," the comp commanded crisply. "Who's Megan?"

Taggart was reluctant, but with two pairs of blue eyes glaring at him, he continued. "She's a friend. She was taken from the club five days ago. In return for her freedom, I was to allow some transactions to occur."

"Scum." Ellison muttered under his breath.

Still, he said it in the presence of another prime. This time it was Taggart's turn to launch himself out of his chair. "What the hell do you know about her...or me? You come in here, quick to make judgments. What I did, I did for a greater good. Why should I care about a couple of missing seekers?"

Standing to face the other man, Ellison spoke forcefully, "The only way a prime would give up another prime is to save his comp or his comp-to-be. What's the problem Taggart? You tried to bond with her and she refused." 

"You don't know a damn thing about it, you mutant."

"Enough!" Blair shouted from between the two posturing men. "This isn't getting us anywhere. Taggart had his reasons. You, Ellison Prime, will respect them. What's most important here is getting everyone back and that includes Megan, right, Taggart?"

The dark skinned man subsided. "Yeah. She hasn't been returned yet. I'm in on this, whatever you plan to do. Megan--she's important."

Blair drummed his fingers on the wooden tabletop. "When was she expected back?"

"Midnight last night," was the prompt reply.

"She's about twelve hours late. How did he get in contact with you the first time?"

"The first time?"

"Yes," Blair replied patiently. "When Megan was captured the first time--not this time, Taggart--the very first time."

"How...how'd you know?"

Blair caught the approval in the gaze of his temporary prime. That tiny signal warmed him. He turned his attention back to the bar owner. "Because, our kidnapper would not have used such a ploy unless he knew it would work. He needed a prime who would be willing to do anything, including betray another prime. The stakes were too high for him to use a plan that might fail."

Taggart slumped back into the plush, dark-colored cushions. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Oh God, Blair, how could I let it happen again? I swore I'd protect her after the first time."

* * *

Jim strode out of the pub.

"What's your problem man?"

The prime ground his teeth harder and kept walking.

Blair bobbed two paces behind. "Like, you don't think comps have lives."

Whirling to face the shorter comp, Jim spat, "Why do you comps always hold things back? It's like you never can give the whole story. You should've told me about Taggart."

Blair opened his mouth to refute the claim and suddenly found himself very close and personal with a few square centimeters of Cascade's pavement.

"Wha...?"

"Shh."

Considering that he was lying on the pavement with the prime a heavy weight along his body, he barely had breath to feed his lungs, far less speak. The high whine of a charging laser weapon was a prelude to the spitting chunks of debris that rained down on them as someone opened fire above their heads.

The sudden silence was unexpected, as was the roar of an old-fashioned gas engine that followed the sudden calm. It sounded almost challenging. Bracing himself on Blair's body, Jim raised himself a little. Zeroing in with his sight, Jim murmured, "I'll give you three guesses as to who's in the transport, but make the first one count."

"Gee, prime, Lee Brackett?"

"Yeah. He's not moving. He's just sitting there."

The engine revved again. Blair wriggled. "Lemme up, man. He's challenging you."

"Sandburg!" Jim tried to keep his comp pinned, but the young man wriggled out from under him.

"It's okay. It's a sneaky comp move."

"He could shoot at us again."

"No, he won't." Blair gained his feet.

Jim stood also. The engine at the far end of the street revved again in acknowledgement.

"What's the point of this?"

"I would guess he's trying to get your attention," Blair said.

"By shooting at us?" Jim was sarcastic.

"You know primes, gotta do something dramatic to get their attention."

From the distance between them Jim exchanged a grim glare with Lee Brackett. "He's got that. What else does he want?"

"You're the latest contestant, prime." Lee Brackett spoke in a normal tone of voice, confident that the prime would hear him. "I have some of your people."

Jim whispered hurriedly to Blair, "He's got our people."

"I figured if I waited long enough, they would eventually send their best after me. Are you the best, prime?" Brackett spat the word prime.

Jim stared at Brackett. "You're boring me. If being the best means being bored by you, then I'm the best."

Ellison Prime could feel a soft rush of commentary from the comp next to him. "Check the car, the license plate, see if there are any distinguishing features, look at the tire treads." Distance being no barrier to his sight, Jim saw the hard expression that changed Brackett's features.

"Let's test that, shall we, prime?"

The wheels smoked on the heavy vehicle and the engine sang, then with an illegal spin, the transport wheeled around and sped away from the two men.

Blair's palm rubbed slow circles on Ellison's shoulder as he continued his commentary, "...smell, move onto hearing, maybe he has a radio on..."

Jim nodded. "Nothing. Brackett went over that transport carefully before coming here. No clues." He started walking. "He left a calling card, though."

Walking fifteen meters brought the prime and comp to an innocuous looking package. It was a small square package wrapped in brown paper and tied with cotton twine.

"No ticking, no nothing," Jim reported.

Blair, who had been pushed behind his prime, reached around Jim.

The scent from the man behind him was distracting Ellison. "Do you have to stand so close?"

"I dunno. That's where all you primes put us comps," Blair retorted.

Jim sighed. It had been different working with his former comp. Easier. Calmer. Continuing to stare at the box, he picked up a subtle pattern in the paper wrapping. Before he could zone, Blair's voice pulled him back, "Snap out of it, prime. Let's call Simon and get a team out here. Brackett wouldn't put a bomb in there. He wants us to chase after him."

"Uh, yeah. Right."

Activating the communicator in his timepiece, Jim wondered anew if he could request another comp. There was something about Companion Sandburg that disturbed him on several levels; it was unfortunate that most of those levels he didn't want to visit.

* * *

Seated in Simon's office, Jim gave his report unemotionally. When he was finished, Simon turned to the comp, "What's your take on this, Sandburg?"

Blair considered carefully before speaking, "I think we have something Brackett wants."

"Huh? What? A comp?" It was not often that Simon was rendered mute. "Why do you think so?"

"He could have killed us earlier today. He didn't. I also don't believe that he murdered any of our people even though Cassie and Ilsa can't get in contact with their seekers. He's found some way to silence their bonds, and he's going to hold them and use them to trade for what he wants." 

Jim's derisive snort colored the air and expressed more than disbelief in the companion's theory.

"Simon, tell us about Brackett."

"As you know, Cascade is one of the few city states of Pan America that doesn't compel testing, and Brackett's mother refused. She wasn't a seeker and her genetic history didn't indicate prime or companion aptitude, so when she died before Brackett was one year old, he was fed into the state care system. Everyone assumed he'd been tested already."

"Except he hadn't ever..." Blair breathed softly.

"His childhood must have been hellish."

"From the little we've learned, yes," Simon agreed and continued, "he got a job with the Ecological Society disappearing into the forests months at a time searching for strikes."

Blair nodded in agreement. "He would have been psychologically tested for isolation, but that would have been all."

Jim murmured reluctantly, "It's probably the only place a non-bonded prime would find a measure of peace away from the stench of the city."

Glancing at Jim, Simon continued, "He did his job so well, that he refused a number of promotions. He was the one who caught the Manchazi brothers. The society brought him to Cascade to testify against them."

Blair nodded. "I remember that. It was big news while I was in high school. What was it?" His brow wrinkled as he concentrated. "I remember, now." Blair's grin was incandescent, eliciting answering smiles from both men in the room, and the distinct tightening of his groin in one. "A whole region of the north-west was devastated when a series of unplanned strikes occurred back in the summer of '26."

Shifting in the comfortable sofa he'd appropriated in Simon's office, the companion rambled, "Yeah, someone was setting fires to all types of wood in direct violation of the Candello compact, which says that only the Ecological Society could decide on strikes and set fires. Damn! Those brothers were nuts. They kept setting fires all across the north, damaging wood." Blair's tone was disgusted. Ecosaboteurs were the worst kind of criminals in his opinion.

"I thought the brothers got off, didn't they?" Jim asked.

"Yes," Simon confirmed. "The Society didn't know Brackett was a prime. He was brought into the courtroom and couldn't control any of his dials. It was textbook, his breakdown in the courtroom, but it was only then the Society called in Tarsus, and we confirmed that he was a prime and had been online for some time. None of his records showed that. By the time Tarsus had become involved, he was completely zoned." 

Simon stood and walked to the windows behind him. "I don't know if I would have done anything different from what Quoyle did," Simon said, referring to the prior Chief of Tarsus, "but the damage was done all the same."

"What happened, Simon?" Blair risked the question, when Simon remained silent.

"Brackett was completely zoned, so Quoyle grabbed the nearest high level unbound comp, hoping to get him out of the zone. He was very deep, and we were afraid of losing him. Veronica Serris had just lost her father, and he thought the match would work, even if it would only be temporary, because of need on both sides."

Moving away from the window, Simon turned to face the two men in the office. "It did work, and everything should have been fine. Brackett had some catch up training to do here, as if we could condense fifteen years of prime training into a few months. But Serris was a good companion; Quoyle thought they would balance each other even with the prime's spotty training."

Nodding slowly, Blair filled in the blanks, "Except the Manchazi brothers pretty much got off with a slap on the wrist, and they went back north, but not before they took Serris."

"Right." Simon bit off the word. "A slap on the wrist, when they should have gotten life for what they did." Like almost everyone in Pan America, there was a deep love and respect for the forests. Over two hundred years before, a wildfire had blazed across the northern city state of Alberta, destroying all of the old growth forests, burning property and livestock of thousands of people. The loss of life from the Great Fire was staggering. Alberta rebuilt and survived. That there were healthy forests in that city state today was due to the Candello compact, which was rigorously enforced by the Ecological Society. Fires in the woods of the north were against the law, and though small strikes were set to clear out dead underbrush, they were rigorously monitored by the Society.

Simon fisted his hands. "They did set one more fire, though. Serris died in that fire. Brackett knew she was murdered."

"Fuck!" Ellison had been there. He knew what it was like to have your comp ripped away from your consciousness.

"This time Brackett didn't bring back the brothers for justice. He told Quoyle the Ecological Society's little problems had been taken care of, turned in his resignation, and left Tarsus," Simon said. "We tried to convince him to wait, to allow himself time to heal, and then take another comp, but he was like a wounded animal, he went back to ground."

"Then we're back to our original question, Simon," Jim reminded. "Why is an unbound prime taking other primes and comps, as well as seekers?"

The three men were silent as the sun disappeared behind the jagged bulk of Mount Rainier.

"I still say we have something he wants," Blair insisted stubbornly.

"Do you think he wants to break a bonded couple?" Simon was horrified.

The comp spoke slowly as he weeded through his thoughts, "Think about it Simon. Brackett goes to the trouble of kidnapping someone Taggart cares about. In doing so, he ensures that he will be able to capture any primes that go to Wolf and Thistle to pursue information on a retrieval job. Why would anyone go to so much trouble?" Blair answered his own question, "Because the stakes are way high."

* * *

Jim rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had been staring at a monitor for the last few hours trying to match Brackett's rankings with a compatible comp. So far, unless Lee Brackett wanted a permanent headache, he was no match for any of the current comps graduating with Sandburg. And he and Sandburg had searched down to age eight when the earliest comp talents were activated.

Speaking of comps, Sandburg had been very helpful through this. The runt, Jim grinned, well the man, had a brain that worked at light speed. He had kept him from zoning during the tedious search with his interesting comments. Blair had talked about everything from origami to the marriage rituals of young Micronesian women.

Finally, he had been forced to ask just how Sandburg had gleaned so much knowledge.

Sandburg's answer had stunned him. He had traveled with his mother for all of his life. Sandburg's mother was world renowned Naomi Sandburg, anthropologist extraordinaire.

"So how did you get your comp training?" Jim was curious.

Blair grinned. "Six months here, six months there, a year here, another one there. My records transferred with me and I just joined with whichever class I ranked."

Behind the engaging grin, Jim thought he detected something, but it was too fleeting to identify correctly. "Weren't you lonely?" Comps needed company, hence their name "companion."

The smile lost a little of its wattage. "A little, but I became a friend to the world." Blair finished with hands out flung.

Jim peered at him suspiciously. "Yeah, right. Okay, Dale Carnegie, if Brackett can't get a compatible bond with one of our comps, what do we have that he wants?"

The question stymied his companion. Except for a relentless, arrhythmic tapping, Blair stayed silent.

He finally spoke, "Jim?"

"Yeah."

"We're assuming that Brackett wants to bond to a comp."

"Yeah."

"Okay, man, we've looked at bound comps, nothing matches there. Correction, any matches that might occur are under eighty-five percent. You and I both know, 'Under 85 and the bond ain't alive,'" Blair said the common comp phrase mockingly. "We've looked at unbound comps, same stats there."

"Right," Jim agreed. "Unless he's jonesing for a low pain buzz, it isn't worth it for a prime to join with a non-compatible companion. I've tried that. It's not pleasant."

"Uh, what if he wants to bond to another prime?"

Jim blinked at the man seated next to him. "What?"

Blair pulled the flat keyboard toward him. The monitor lit up in the air in front of them. "Let's put in the parameters. That person would have tested as a comp at first, but very low level, maybe not even trainable." The fingers tapped rapidly. "Then something might have happened." The fingers tapped again. "Some period of isolation or another trigger, and voila...you get a comp with some special abilities--in other words--a prime." Blair turned and caught Jim's stunned expression.

"It's far-fetched, but it's possible." Blair, held captive by ice-blue eyes, defended.

Both men turned slowly toward the monitor. There was a short list of names, three in all that fit the parameters Blair had entered. At the top of the list was Alex Barnes. 

"Oh, fuck!"

"We've got to tell Simon."

* * *

Simon removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was tired. His men were missing in action, and he didn't have a single lead. The knocking at his door was a welcome respite.

After identifying his visitors, Simon released the privacy lock.

"Simon, we ran everything we knew about Brackett and you'll never believe which name popped up." Blair's words tumbled out.

"Whose?"

The comp bounced on the balls of his feet. "Alex Barnes might be the person Lee Brackett wants."

"Never." Simon cut in flatly.

Without pausing at the negative interjection, Blair continued, "Alex Barnes was a low level comp. Her scores were too low for any of the elite programs, but she received the basic instructions given to all comps. Then..."

"Sandburg, maybe you missed my first word," Simon said harshly, stopping the flow of words. "Tarsus will never release Barnes."

"Uh?"

Blair turned to the prime for confirmation.

"She's too dangerous to be released, Shecky. Somewhere in her warped brain, she never made the connection that primes were protectors. She uses her abilities to rob and lie and put the people we primes protect in danger. The last time she managed to escape custody, she stole a virus that, had it been released, would have killed most of the citizens of Cascade in less than a day."

"Simon, you're not getting the picture here. If Brackett wants her, he won't stop until he gets Barnes."

Simon scowled. "Then, we'll have to capture him and put him in a cell next to her, because there is no way I am letting her out."

"But Si--"

"Simon," Jim broke into the exchange. "Did you find anything on the package?"

Pulling his attention away from Blair, Simon focused on Jim. "That's another problem in itself, Jim."

Depressing a spot on his desk, the monitor lit up in the space between the three men. The results of the analysis of the box found outside the Wolf and Thistle scrolled up the screen.

Blair's attention was caught, and Simon used his distraction to begin a quiet conversation with the prime.

"Jim, why is the kid so convinced that Brackett wants Barnes?"

Jim walked around the desk and stood near the window. The magnificent view of Mt. Rainier in the dusk was wasted on him.

"Sandburg pulled Brackett's file. He ran a comp match on him and nothing. By the way, you'd better watch him, he could probably get into your secure files."

Simon gave a disbelieving snort.

Jim grinned. He knew how proud Simon was of his computer skills.

"We didn't find a match and Sandburg ran one on any comp that had ever been registered and tested."

"Barnes is a prime, Jim, a powerful, nasty, viciously evil prime."

Sighing, Jim continued, "Then Blair postulated that we had something Brackett might want, and since every prime wants a stable grounding for his senses, he had to be looking for a comp, but maybe not the usual type." Ellison snagged his captain's attention. "Blair ran an algorithm for prime/prime matches and Alex Barnes matched with Lee Brackett at ninety percent."

"Damn!"

"Uh, Jim, I might have been wrong about Alex Barnes."

"Told you so," Simon muttered triumphantly.

"No Simon, after reading this analysis, I'm not sure. When I ran the algorithm to match Brackett with primes, three names came up. With these results here, I'm not as convinced that he only wants Alex." 

"Then who Sandburg?" Simon asked.

"It might be you, Jim. Your name was there."

Jim Ellison could not prevent the atavistic thrill that shivered through him at those words. To be hunted by a prime. He had never been on the other side of the hunt.

Blair went silent and drew Jim's attention to him. "What're you looking at, Junior?"

"Hmmm..."

Ambling over to Simon's desk, Jim looked at the subtle pattern displayed on the wrapping paper that had been used on the box, magnified many times over upon the screen. He began reading the info, the techs at Tarsus had uncovered. The paper wrapping around the box had been hand painted. The paint used was midnight number 2, the paper and box were common items that could be purchased at any art supply store. The plain white box, similar in size to a shoebox, had had its base wrapped in the paper wrapping. The cover of the box was unwrapped but had an angular pinprick design in the center of the white surface. Neither the box nor its cover had any fingerprints or odors except for the very faint scent of exhaust. The decoration on the paper was a black ink drawing on an unembellished white surface and had been held together by a single strip of transparent tape inside the box. When the paper had been removed, the clear, repeating, hand-drawn pattern could be seen on its surface.

"Hypnotic," Jim commented.

"Yeah, but do you see the pattern?" Blair asked.

"Oh right, I see it." Jim traced the outline of one mazelike pattern.

The pattern on the paper began with a simple polygonal shape, but as it marched diagonally across the square, the design became more complex, but always building on the previous symbol.

"I've seen that somewhere before," Simon commented, his brow wrinkling.

Both men turned to face the chief of Tarsus. "I don't remember right now, but that's not a simple maze. The lines are like a foundation, or the line plans for something...." Simon trailed off, frustrated at not being able to pin down the information.

"Simon, you have an eidetic memory, doesn't that mean you don't forget anything?"

"Bite me, Ellison."

The prime grinned at his boss.

Suddenly, Banks smiled, "That's the design of Conover Psychiatric Facility, reduced to its simplest form." Simon pointed. "See, this inner bit was built in the twentieth century. This bit--" He traced another line. "--was built between 2002 and 2005. Most of the western exposures were completely remodeled in 2025. And this last section here was completed only last year."

Both Jim and Blair were wide-eyed as they stared at their boss.

Simon shrugged. "What can I say, I saw a special on The Learning Channel."

"Isn't Alex kept there?"

"Yes," Simon bit off his answer. "Tarsus maintains a wing there. She's kept in a maximum security sensory deprivation chamber."

"Then Brackett definitely wants Alex," Jim muttered. Blair glared at the prime but didn't say anything.

"Why don't you two gentlemen go home and get some rest. I'm going over to Conover with a contingent of level six primes and have them go over every inch of the place. The last thing Cascade needs right now is Alex and Brackett joining forces."

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Simon cut him off. "No, Jim, you and Blair take a break. I'm going to need you both fresh to go after Brackett once he contacts us."

Dismissed from Simon's office, both men looked at each other, slightly uncomfortable without Simon's buffering presence.

"Uh, where do you live?" Jim asked.

"I have a room in the comp dorm, 16 L."

"Sorry."

"Why're you sorry?" Blair pushed his curly hair back from his face with one hand and bunched it at the nape of his neck while he rooted through his pockets with his other hand.

"I hated being in the Prime dorms. Not that I roomed there for long. I couldn't wait to graduate and get bonded."

Blair nodded. "You have to understand, the comp dorms here at Tarsus were the first long term housing I had." He clubbed his hair with a leather tie, then gestured excitedly. "Before these dorms, the longest I'd lived anywhere was fifteen months in a yurt. Coming here with its regimentation was like entering a foreign country. Can you imagine an entire building only for comps, then another for primes? It was a new world for me."

Jim quirked an eyebrow. Sandburg appeared as if he were winding up, and if he weren't cut off, they might be here for a while. "Well, how about I bust you out of here, Sparky. Want to have dinner at my loft? We can both wait for Simon's call there."

Blair's face lit up; his eyes glinted. "You have a loft? That's so cool."

"It's on Prospect; the apartment overlooks the bay."

"Lead on then, MacDuff. I'm in the mood for some vegetable tempura."

Jim stopped his forward progress to the elevator, forcing Blair to stop short behind him in the comp position he'd automatically taken. "You're not one of those veggie lovers, are you?" he questioned suspiciously.

Blair grinned. "Jim, considering the places where I've traveled, the only thing you could count on being the same were the vegetables. You don't want me to start describing the meat dishes that were considered delicacies in some tribes."

Jim smiled. "Why don't we agree to disagree on the veggie versus meat debate, Darwin? I'm paying for dinner and as long as you don't point and snort at my food, I'll promise to ignore your veggie crunching."

"Deal." Blair extended his square hand and shook Jim's more slender hand firmly.

* * *

Blair sank deeper into the couch and burped discreetly. He was stuffed and comfortable.

"Do you want to watch the Jags on the holo?" Blair was fiddling with the universal remote.

From the kitchen where Jim was packaging the remains of a Wonderburger feast, he grinned at the comp's question. Blair obviously took the adage, 'Mi casa es tu casa,' seriously, because he had explored the entire loft as thoroughly as an exterminator searching for bugs. Somewhere in his explorations Blair had discovered the remote and the gadget had not strayed out of his hand since.

"Nah, they're going to lose anyway. They've lost their fire since Orvelle the Third was sidelined with a pulled hamstring," Jim replied absently, while debating if he had room for a piece of Colette's extra light and airy Angel food cake.

"You've a great view." From his position where he was ensconced, Blair gestured at the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows.

The tall prime regretfully passed on the cake-he was full--and walked to the balcony door. "I used to have fun working with Jack picking out the boats in the bay."

"He was your comp?"

The prime's expression closed off, but he answered civilly, "Yes, he was. I lost him four years ago."

Blair shivered. He was a comp and could not imagine being completely without bonds. Comps were encouraged to maintain lighter bonds with their age mates, all the while knowing that they were being prepared for the deepest of all bonds, the life bond with their prime. Primes, on the other hand, were suspicious, paranoid, and did not encourage any friendly overtures. Had Richard Burton, a well-respected scholar born in the nineteenth century, not done extensive research into Primes and Companions, it was doubtful if society would have progressed as far as it had. His work established the scientific foundations of the prime/companion bond, the nascent theories of the varying sensitivity levels of Primes and pioneered testing of children for those elusive talents.

Utilizing his empathic gift, Blair settled deeper into the sofa and appeared to drift off to sleep, while establishing a comfortable atmosphere in the silence.

Slowly, Jim Ellison's tense muscles relaxed, and he stopped grinding his jaw. Even after four years, he still reacted badly to questions about Jack's death. He reasoned that it was the guilt that made him tense up. Whoever heard of a Level 10 prime zoning on the job and causing his comp to die? Sighing, Jim looked over at the compact man napping on his sofa. He was a flawed prime and this bright young comp didn't need him. Jim picked through his memory to place Samantha, the woman Blair had mentioned this morning as his potential prime. In his mind's eye he saw Samantha's sharp features, glossy straight hair and forced himself to picture them together, working in Tarsus investigations together, living together....

Thankfully the doorbell rang before Ellison could visualize Blair and Samantha doing something even more intimate together. Positioning himself against the bulk of the door, Jim opened the heavy wooden door partway. "Yes?"

Joel Taggart stood outside. "Let me in, Ellison. I need to catch you up on recent events."

Ellison's hackles rose--primes were notoriously territorial, and to allow Taggart into his loft was an act of great faith.

The companion who had come to stand behind him murmured softly, "Let him in, Jim, I think Taggart can help us with Brackett."

Jim, a man with sentinel abilities, jumped in shock. How the comp had managed to sneak up on him was information he filed away to dissect another time.

Just then the communicator console on Ellison's kitchen counter chimed musically. "Damn!" He gave in with ill grace. "Come on in."

Answering the comm console, Jim positioned himself so he could observe Taggart and Blair. Finishing the short conversation, he walked over to the two men who were discussing tonight's Jags game. Breaking off in mid-sentence, Taggart lifted his left hand. Swinging from his index finger was a small beige shopping bag.

"A present, for me? You shouldn't have..." Jim murmured sarcastically, hoping to get a rise out of Taggart.

Except for a slight lift of one brow, Taggart ignored him. "The box I have inside the bag was found at the entrance to the bar about one hour ago. We don't know who the messenger was. There was an altercation up the street, and Ken moved away to see if he could help. When he came back, the box was there. I suspect that our mutual nemesis placed the box there. Nevertheless, I have friends in high places, and they've gone over it thoroughly. No traces as to its origin."

Blair reached for the bag and moved toward the low sofa. Even after what Joel Taggart said, Blair still eased the box carefully out of the bag. It was identical in size to the one Jim had picked up off the street earlier that day. The repeating design on the wrapping paper appeared to be the only difference.

"Do you recognize the pattern on the wrapper?" Blair asked absently. "It's a blueprint."

"What?" Taggart was surprised.

Both men moved as one to join Blair when he opened the box. He noted the pinprick pattern on the top of the box and put it aside, then he peeled the tape off the base of the box. The paper unfurled, and the companion opened it flat, unpainted side down on the low center table. As expected, there was an angular repeating pattern hand painted onto the creased wrapper.

"The paint?" Jim's question was clipped.

"No special formulation, can be found at any number of stores. Midnight black paint was applied with an artificial sable hair brush--can also be found in any kid's starter art kit." Joel Taggart recited the facts baldly. 

"What about the design?" Blair asked. "Do you recognize it?"

"It looks like a maze."

Blair tapped his chin. "Simon recognized the design from the other box. It turned out to be line renderings of the different additions to Conover Psychiatric Facility over the last hundred years or so."

Taggart shrugged. "Is this design the same?"

"No," Jim answered while he studied the pattern.

The three men were silent when Blair suddenly exclaimed, "I've got it."

"What is it?"

"OK, Conover is where Alex is now. She's confined there, but you could also think of her as being trapped. Were you ever held anywhere for a period of time? Trapped somewhere?" Blair asked excitedly.

"A lifetime ago, yes. But how did he find out about that?" Taggart's words were barely above a whisper.

Blair caught Jim's eyes and, lightning fast in the manner of primes and comps the world over, a question was asked and with an infinitesimal nod, Jim answered.

"Joel, earlier today Jim and I did some research. We were trying to figure out what Brackett wanted. Assuming he wants what all primes want, to be one half of a bonded prime-companion pair, we asked the computer to find any comps who'd be suitable for him."

"And?" Taggart prompted gently.

"There were none."

"So why'd he capture Megan?" was Taggart's anguished question.

"Oh no!" Blair exclaimed. "You and Megan."

"No, not for me." Taggart pressed his lips together and would say no more.

The unspoken question of the exact nature of the relationship between Taggart and Megan hung heavy in the ensuing silence.

Blair took up the tale again. "Well, after we couldn't find any comps in the database, we decided to look at primes."

"A prime-prime bonding?" Taggart protested. "That's unheard of."

It appeared as if Blair were about to say something else but he changed his mind in mid-word and continued smoothly, "Three names came up as possibles: Alex Barnes, Jim Ellison, and Joel Taggart."

"Damn!" Jim exclaimed. "Mrs. Neebauer said she had a package for me. I'm sure she's holding an empty box. Be right back, Darwin."

"Jim?" The comp's question stopped Ellison's rush. Blair had used guiding tones, and his question demanded a complete answer.

Ellison was already at the door, but he gave a succinct summary. "That call on the comm was from Mrs. Eliza Neebauer. She lives on the first floor, and she qualifies for a rebate on her rent by performing small duties for the residents of the building. One of her tasks is to scan and hold all the packages that are delivered for the residents. She's holding one for me." Having answered the question, Ellison Prime was freed of his imperative to obey the companion and was bounding down the stairs moments later, but still he heard the companion's soft epithet.

Blair threw a concerned look at Taggart, who appeared lost in his memories as he stood motionless near the sofa.

"Hey, man, do you want some tea?"

Surprising Blair, Taggart clutched at the young comp's arm as he rose from the sofa. "Blair, I have to tell you this before Ellison comes back."

The comp fleetingly touched the hand grabbing his arm. "Mmmm." The rumble was non-judgmental and soothing.

"When I was much younger and a whole lot more stupid, I backpacked with a group of friends through Southern Pan America. In the Altiplano region of the Bolivian city state, there was a territoriality battle going on between two primes. Our group got caught in the crossfire. I was the only survivor. I wandered through the Altiplano for months before the authorities found me. I was befriended by the Urus, a people indigenous to the region, and it was while I was there my senses came online." Taggart paused and swallowed noisily. "Blair, based on what you've said, I think these line drawings on the wrapping might be the blueprints of the foundations of several ancient temples, now in ruins, on the islands and shores of Lake Titicaca." Taggart leaned forward and picked up the wrapping paper. Releasing Blair's arm, he traced a path along the paper with his finger. "This final one in each grouping might be of the Kalasaya Temple in Tiahuanaco."

"What?"

* * *

When Jim entered the loft, his state-of-the-art computer was on, and Taggart and Blair were sitting next to each other on the couch discussing whatever was on the vertical display.

'No one should be sitting that close to my comp.' Jim reined his thoughts in. 'My comp?' Ellison found that he had to tamp down on his rising territoriality. Fortunately, his reaction was so slight that Companion Sandburg completely missed it, engrossed as he was in whatever was on the screen. Taggart, a prime, catalogued his reaction with a sardonic lift of his brow.

Jim slammed his door shut with a loud thunk.

"Come here, Jim, we figured out where Taggart's maze was." The young companion leaned sideways so he could see the man standing just inside the door of the loft. He also checked to see that Jim indeed did hold a box in his now gloved hand.

Ellison walked over to the pair sitting on the couch. He put the box down on the low coffee table. Both Taggart and the companion looked at him expectantly.

"So?" Blair burst out.

"I borrowed the gloves from Mrs. Neebauer. I don't think there'll be any evidence we can lift, but I did it as a precaution. She didn't see who delivered it. The receiving slot for packages which leads to the scanner in the lobby was chiming around midday, when she left her apartment to make a quick run to the bakery."

The three men studied the box. The box top had the identical pinprick design of the other two. The design on the wrapper was different, though it was done in the same style.

Blair tilted his head toward Jim.

"No, I don't recognize it." Ellison answered while studying the pattern carefully.

"It's gotta be someplace where you've been, man."

"I was never imprisoned," Jim stated flatly.

"Look, Ellison Prime, now is not the time to go coy on us," Taggart's tone was sharp.

"I've never been to Conover," Jim's response was equally sharp.

"What about Bolivia?"

Jim blinked. If he wondered about the strange segue, he didn't ask, but answered promptly. "Never."

"Think, man, you must've been somewhere when your senses triggered. You'd been identified as a low level comp for years."

Ellison started speaking slowly, "About seven years ago, I was in Peru, in the La Montana region, but I wasn't trapped or anything...."

Blair looked at the hand-drawn design on the paper of Jim's box. Then he looked back at the screen. "Machu Pichu!" he exclaimed.

"What? Where's that?"

"Jim, think, were you ever at Machu Pichu?"

Ellison Prime shrugged. "Maybe, I'm not sure. I was stranded for eighteen months while I was with the Chopec. I think my senses came back online then, but I don't remember much about my time there."

Blair broke in excitedly, his fingers tapping swiftly on the portable console. The images on the screen flew by quickly, then stabilized on a map of the Bolivian and Peruvian city states in Southern Pan America. "There, you see. The Chopec have ranged as far as Machu Pichu."

"What does all of this mean, besides the fact that Brackett has way too much time on his hands?" Jim's question was caustic.

Blair deflated almost visibly. "I don't know, except there's a connection between Conover, Kalasaya, and Machu Pichu, possibly the same connection between you, Joel Taggart, and Alex Barnes, and where you were when your latent prime gifts came online."

"Kalasaya?" Jim probed.

"I'll tell you in a minute. Right now, we need to get both boxes to Tarsus, and I need to get into the files with all the records I can find on the three of you. Taggart, I know you had your people go over it, but I know Jim would feel better if Tarsus examined your box and his." Again Blair tilted his head to Ellison Prime, the two having a meeting of minds on their next course of action.

Jim nodded in agreement.

"Sure." Taggart rose to his feet. "I'm not straying too far from you two. I want that arrogant bastard. He threatened me and mine."

* * *

Within minutes a team of two arrived from Tarsus. One member of the team asked the three men questions while the other tagged and bagged the boxes. Assuring the three men that they would have the results as soon as possible, they disappeared as efficiently as they had arrived.

"Jim," Blair said hesitantly. "I think the pinprick design on the box top is the outline of the Crystal Tower of Machu Pichu."

"What?" Both primes were startled and they echoed each other.

The comp faced Ellison. "I don't know all of Brackett's motives, but I know anthropology. Hell, I've lived it all my life. That's why my major in college was psychology; anthro would've been a gimme. Think of anthropologists as being similar to modern day primes. The only difference is that the evidence anthropologists use to solve mysteries are several thousand years old. Once I started thinking about Tiahuanaco and the Kalasaya mound, I saw the connection immediately."

Ellison Prime rubbed his forehead. "Blair, make sense. This is the second time you've mentioned Kalasaya and what's Tiahuanaco?"

Jim's words arrested his companion. The younger man drew himself up, organized his thoughts, and launched into speech. "In the Altiplano region of Bolivia around the shores of Lake Titicaca there are many ruins of ancient temples, ruins of a civilization that predates all of recorded history. An archaeological dig unearthed a partially collapsed monolith, dubbed the Portal of the Sun, which was atop the Kalasaya mound. The Kalasaya mound marked the entrance to the Kalasaya temple. Joel believes that one of the mazes on his wrapping paper is that of foundations of the temple."

Joel appeared to be as bewildered as Ellison, and he asked the question for both of them, "But what does the Crystal Tower have to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure I can tell you yet. I need to check a few things," Blair confessed. "Nevertheless, don't you understand," he continued passionately, "the Crystal Tower was found in the Incan ruins of Machu Pichu. To this day it emanates a mysterious mystical energy. Its uses are handed down from shaman to shaman in that region. Oral history of the region mentions that the Tower originally belonged to the Aztecs, before it was stolen by the Incas. When the Incas stole the Tower, they stole the power of the Aztecs which led to their extinction and the subsequent rise of the Incas as a dominant civilization."

Jim leaned forward and tapped Blair on his nose. "I get the whole Crystal Tower bit, Professor, but what does it have to do with our missing primes?"

Shock at the sweet burn of Jim's touch caused Blair to lose his train of thought; and it was a challenge to marshal his thoughts and answer the question. "Hmm." The comp's expression sharpened and became more focused. "I don't think it has anything to do with the missing primes--at least not directly."

Jim gave him a narrow-eyed stare. "Just what aren't you sharing with us, Companion Sandburg?"

Blair's gaze was caught by Jim's interrogatory quirk of his eyebrow, and he realized the prime wanted the entire story.

Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly, then shrugged self-consciously. "You have to remember it was a while ago when Naomi explored Machu Pichu. There's really nothing of value to be found there anymore, but any anthropologist worth her salt goes there at some point. It's been picked over, but she went there for some reason or another. I was about ten or so, and I was sitting at the base of the pyramid when a shaman appeared out of nowhere and began talking to me. We talked for a long time; most of the conversation isn't important, but what I do remember is that he said the Crystal Tower of Machu Pichu would lead to a hidden temple."

Blair tugged at his hair tie and released his hair. "I don't remember how long we talked. I never saw him leave, and I woke up three days later. The doctor on site said I had sunstroke."

"No shaman was ever found?"

The companion sighed. "The only people around were members of Naomi's expedition."

Jim tugged one of the newly freed curls. "Let's go to Tarsus. Maybe Simon has an update."

"There's one more thing," Blair confessed reluctantly, "you have to understand that I may not be an anthropologist but for many years that was my life. I still keep in contact with many people all over the world." 

"Spill it, Sandburg."

"I heard a rumor about a year ago that the Crystal Tower had been replaced. Discreet inquiries were being made to see if the real Tower had been sold," Blair continued. "The rumor was never substantiated so I forgot about it until now. Maybe I can get hold of the Cultural Attach to Peru and ask him."

"What makes you think he'll tell you anything, Blair?" Joel asked.

"Joachim and I used to steal mangoes together when we were younger. If he knows anything, he'll tell me," Blair said confidently.

* * *

The three men arrived at the Tarsus complex in a hired streetcar. Walking towards the central administration building, Taggart said, "I've only been in the prime building. This'll be new."

Blair veered off to the right. "Gotta check in, then I'll join you."

Taggart looked at Ellison inquiringly. Jim nodded at Blair in agreement. Then he said to Taggart, "Blair's still in training, so he has to notify the staff of his whereabouts."

"Ahhh." Taggart's reply was an insulting drawl.

Predictably, Jim took offense. Gesturing at the complex of three buildings surrounding the park-like area where they were currently, he said, "Take a look around, Taggart. This isn't a prison. Companions are sociable, loving, and need others around. If Blair hadn't checked in tonight, he would have been receiving a call on his personal comm, and so would I. Had we not responded then Tarsus central would have been alerted. Notwithstanding the last day or so, we don't lose our people."

"Yes, I understand, but Ellison, this system is archaic. Separate buildings, and if I recall, separate floors for the sexes." 

Jim sighed. "Taggart, Tarsus is supported by public funds. It's a school first and foremost, and then a peacekeeping organization." He stopped walking. "When the legislature was informed that the empathic gifts of some comps begin to express at age two, and if they aren't nurtured, their emotional development would be stunted and we'd lose comps by the dozen, they decided to step in. That's why we at Tarsus can maintain our high standards. We take care of our comps, same as with our primes. And yes, Taggart, we keep sexes on separate floors. Research has shown that their abilities develop better when they are among their peers, but we don't prevent intimacy between comps once they reach the age of majority."

Taggart, who had also stopped walking, was introspective. "I had just been rescued in Southern Pan America and I was 'online'. I couldn't handle it, especially after what had happened down there. Since I was from Cascade I was brought here to Tarsus to be tested."

Shaking his head he continued, "Maybe I was too confused, but that building represented a loss of all personal freedom. I couldn't handle that. I had responsibilities. I thought they would give me a comp and I would be able to leave. When they started to talk about training and bonding, I just about lost it."

Jim rumbled in agreement. "It's difficult for latent primes. It's as if someone ripped the skin off your body and everything is impinging on you. Smells, tastes, sounds, and let's not forget the ever present sixth sense." Jim snorted. "I thought I was crazy, because all my life I'd been told I was a comp."

A rare smile of understanding illuminated both men's faces. And as they began walking towards the middle building, their steps matched each other.

It was coincidental that the three arrived at Simon's door at the same time: Ellison and Taggart by elevator, Blair by a quick dash along the corridor after emerging from the stairwell.

"What took you guys so long?" Blair teased.

"You know us, Junior, the near dead," Jim said, paraphrasing Blair's words from earlier that day.

"Speak for yourself, Ellison," was Simon's tart rejoinder from inside his office. The door to the Chief's sanctum had opened and neither prime had been aware of it, focused as they were on the comp rushing toward them.

"Come in gentlemen." Simon gestured expansively before extending his hand to Taggart. "Simon Banks."

"Joel Taggart, sir." The prime shook his hands then followed Banks to the conference table.

The conference table was designed so that each place had a console. Unaware of their actions, the two primes pulled chairs close to either side of the comp, which meant that only Blair had access to a console. Simon hid a troubled smile. This jockeying between primes for a comp's favors was something he hadn't seen in adults in a long time. Burton had studied that phenomenon, but it had been eradicated because of early testing, education, and successful bonding. It was also one of the reasons Tarsus kept their primes and comps segregated.

"Joel, as soon as this meeting is finished someone will take you down to testing. We need to quantify your skills and give you a current rating; our records on you are far from complete. The tech geeks will send us the results on the box you received after their analysis but in the meantime, let's see what we can figure out."

In the air above the conference table a display visible to all present materialized. The upper half of the display had the three box tops with the pinprick design illuminated. The lower half had the hand-painted paper wrappings aligned next to each other.

"Sir," Blair burst out. "Look at this." His fingers danced over the keys on the console and next to the box tops appeared a filled in version of the pinprick design. "That's the Incan Crystal Tower of Machu Pichu. Working on the hypothesis that the wrappings represent places where the three latent primes came online, Lee Brackett's sent us Conover for Alex Barnes, Kalasaya Temple for Joel Taggart and Machu Pichu for Jim Ellison." The comp's fingers moved swiftly. Squeezing into the lower half of the screen, were the images of three pyramids next to their representative blueprints. 

Simon rubbed his brow. "So why is all this important?"

Blair picked his words carefully. "Sir, we only match primes to comps, and then only if they have a connection of over eighty-five percent. There's a legend, mostly ignored or forgotten, that the Crystal Tower opens a doorway to a hidden temple. In this temple, it is said, a prime has the power to make any of the following happen: bond to another prime, bond to more than one person, or bond to an unwilling comp."

"Damn! That's a nightmare scenario, Companion Sandburg."

Blair's features were troubled. "I may be wrong, sir, but I think Lee Brackett orchestrated these events to get these primes together."

"I'm standing by what I said. I'm not releasing Alex Barnes."

"Sir." Jim cast a worried look at the unhappy companion. "I don't think you're going to have a choice. If Blair is correct, Brackett will maneuver us into getting Barnes, most likely by using the hostages to secure her release.

"Then what are we waiting for, Ellison Prime?" Joel burst out, "We need to get Alex Barnes and go to Peru." 

Jim quirked an eyebrow, "And this would help us all, how?"

Sandburg ignored both primes and walked to Simon's desk. Using the comm there he connected to Joachim Aldreido. Simon, who had been tracking the young comp's actions, noted that when Sandburg connected to the party, his flawless Spanish changed to a glottal dialect which Simon could no longer interpret.

The conversation lasted less than five minutes, but it was long enough for the antagonism between Jim Ellison and Joel Taggart to boil over, and both men pushed their chairs away from the table, bristling with anger.

This attracted the comp's attention, and he swung around to face both primes. "Stop it, both of you. We're not going to Peru or anywhere else." Simon smiled as Blair proved he was capable of carrying on a conversation while keeping tabs on what the primes in the room were doing.

Finishing his call, Blair's face was troubled. "Joachim could not admit it outright, but the Crystal Tower is gone. It has been replaced by a very clever fake. The Peruvian city state is understandably concerned, because once yearly a shaman is chosen to preside over a ceremony guaranteeing continued wealth to Peru. That ceremony is scheduled to take place in two days."

Taggart sat back down in his chair. "So, no Peru."

"The Crystal Tower isn't there. If Brackett has it, it must be with him, and he's somewhere in the Cascade environs."

"What else is there, Sandburg?" Jim asked noting the worried cast to the companion's features.

"Joachim also mentioned that a few months ago, a discommunicado ceremony was performed on a shaman. The shaman took his own life days later, but his tribe appears to be doing well even in his absence. They appear to have an abundance of gold."

"And--?" Taggart prompted.

"Don't you see, the only way Brackett would have been able to steal the Crystal Tower is with a shaman's help. The shaman who killed himself was probably the one who helped him in exchange for a large sum of gold, which the tribe now has."

"The other priests found out and excommunicated him," Simon confirmed.

"Except," Blair continued bitterly, "whatever he knew went to the grave with him. He didn't tell anyone who took the Tower. He was also the shaman who had performed De Gran Alcance ceremony the year before, and as he died before the choosing for this year's ceremony, all that knowledge of what the Crystal Tower can do is dead."

"What do you mean?"

Blair's voice grew vague and lilting as his thoughts turned inward. "Each year before the ceremony, a shaman is chosen. In the presence of the Crystal Tower during a cleansing and transference ritual, all knowledge of the Crystal transfers from one shaman to another."

"So what you're saying is that the new shaman, whomever he may be, can't even perform the whatever ceremony even if the crystal is found right now?" Jim's tone was sharply questioning.

Blinking in surprise, Blair answered, "We have to find Brackett, Jim. We don't have a lot of time."

* * *

Taggart grimaced as yet another tester entered his room. This one held the Zenner cards in his hand. Zenner cards were used exclusively to test a prime's psychic abilities. The prime was itching to leave, but he'd given Ellison Prime his word that he would stay. After the meeting with Banks, Ellison, and Sandburg had broken up, he'd been led downstairs to a large waiting room. That had been about an hour ago, and though his watch had been removed and there were no timepieces on the walls, he knew it was past midnight.

Taggart watched the woman walk across the bland room. Everything in the room was a shade of white. The chairs were comfortable and were covered with a non-irritating material. The surface of the table was non-reflective. Taggart acknowledged to himself that Tarsus had done as much as they could to make the testing environs appear non-threatening. Had it been under any other circumstances, he might have tolerated the testing, but as it was, his mind was on Megan and getting her back. Though Taggart had to remind himself judiciously that this was probably the only combination of events that would ever have induced him to enter Tarsus headquarters again. The tester, like all the others, was a bonded companion, and as she approached, him a warm smile graced her face.

Suddenly, a deep rumble penetrated the room, and Taggart had a split second of warning before the floor beneath his chair shifted.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled.

"I don't know...let me call--" The door was flung open.

"Taggart, there's been an explosion at Conover. Come on!" Jim commanded curtly.

Casting a barely apologetic look at his tester, Taggart left the room a moment later.

Jim had commandeered a Tarsus vehicle, and it was waiting at the end of the mall when the two men exited the building.

Taggart looked around, "Where's your comp?"

Jim bristled and thought about correcting the other prime, but decided it was a waste of time. "Blair'll be here in a bit. He's still in the dorms so he has to sign out." 

No sooner had he finished speaking than a curly haired figure was seen racing from the Comp dorms.

"I'm here, I'm here," Blair panted.

The three men slid into the electric-powered vehicle--Jim and Blair in the front, with Taggart having the back seat to himself. Blair pressed the center console and plugged them into the Tarsus infonet.

Someone was giving an analysis on the damage. A number of primes from Tarsus were committed to search and rescue and their reports were being relayed directly into the infonet. A couple of blocks from Conover, all the access roads were closed to traffic.

Jim slowed to a stop; he couldn't go any farther. Tapping in his personal access code on the console, he waited until the Chief came on the line. "Simon, we're a few blocks from Conover. We'll have to cover the distance on foot. Has SAR found Alex Barnes?"

The three men could hear the anger in Simon's vocal tones. "He's gone too far this time."

"Are you sure it was Lee Brackett?"

"Oh yes," Simon said. "This is his. He spent months planning it, putting the explosives in exact stress spots in and around Conover so that only one wing collapsed, but it was the wing with the most dangerous criminals."

"Where was Alex?" Jim asked.

"I'm sending you schematics and her room number." Simon answered. "I'm also alerting the officials to let you through."

Less than ten minutes later, after a few detours and identification stops, the three men were at the final barrier to Alex Barnes' wing.

"Dr. Alden, we need a visual confirmation that Alex Barnes is still in your custody."

"I assure you gentlemen that no one has had access to this patient."

Seeing the determination in the faces before him, the doctor acquiesced reluctantly. "Very well." He gestured to the two guards stationed nearby. "They'll accompany you."

Automatically, Jim noted the guards' nametags: Sonnetage and Deleo.

Sonnetage walked to the faceplate and got a retinal confirmation, while Deleo placed his thumb on the fingerprint scanner on the other side of the door. Both men slid their keycards into the slots located on either side of the door.

Nodding at the two guards, Jim led the way into the wing to the single door at the other end of a long hallway.

There was no visible damage to this wing.

When the party reached the end of the hallway, the two guards reversed position and Sonnetage had to do the fingerprint scan and Deleo the retinal id.

"Wow!" Blair whistled. "Impressive security. Double ID's and reverse on the inside. What happens if one of the guards has a heart attack or something and can't do the scan on this side?"

"Both guards have to complete the entire procedure on the two doors in one minute. Any longer and the doors won't open," Jim stated flatly. "A general alarm will go off and this place will be swarming with guards." 

"Hmm, so loitering is a bad idea then," Blair finished.

The guards were waiting for the three men at a final inner wooden door. Sonnetage pulled out another keycard and slid it through the slot near the door. Deleo who had been listening to the conversation between Jim and Blair interrupted, "Only eight guards are cleared for this duty. But Chief Banks supplemented the outside guards earlier today."

"Where's Alex Barnes?" Taggart shouted.

Sonnetage gasped at the same time, and he hit the alarm on his comm. Jim and Blair jockeyed with Deleo for entrance into the room.

"Who the heck is this?"

"Carl Fulton, one of our primes."

Jim looked around the bland windowless room. Carl Fulton was obviously unconscious and slumped in the lone chair in the room.

"Brackett!" he ground out. He nodded to Sonnetage. "Call Simon and tell him to get a team over here."

Just then Dr. Alden fluttered in. "Wha--what--"

"Save it, Doctor. Taggart, I'm going to work with Blair and see if there's anything. Dr. Alden, don't touch that man and get out of here. This is Tarsus business now." Taggart's answer was a brief nod, and he dragged the doctor out of the room with him.

Blair stepped closer to the prime and placed a hand on his back. "Is he alive?"

"Yes, but..." Jim sniffed, grounding himself in the heat in the center of his back. "I think he's been drugged."

"Catalog the scents one by one and filter them out."

The prime closed his eyes and began the arduous task of identifying every scent in the room. Thankfully because it had been a prime's room, the scents were mild. Quickly, he dismissed paint, the venting system, the faint body odor of the two guards, Dr. Alden, and Taggart. He'd already incorporated Blair's scent into his consciousness.

"There's a faint citric scent, almost like an overripe lemon." Jim sighed and turned to Blair. "I'm not sure if that's the drug or maybe a residue from Brackett."

Just then Sonnetage interrupted the two men. "The team from Tarsus is here."

"That's all you can do here, Jim. I think we'll have to wait until Carl can tell us a bit more."

The prime tugged the shorter comp out of the way of the eight-man team. "They'll take him back to the clinic at Tarsus, so we might as well go back to HQ."

"Yeah." Blair gave him a careful look. "You need to rest."

Jim grinned. "Do you comps take a course in pushing your primes to sleep?"

The comp smiled and whispered conspiratorially, "We don't graduate without getting honors in that course."

Jim chuckled, and for the first time in a long time, a tight spot inside him loosened. "OK, Darwin, let's get Taggart, and we'll all get some rest." He was struck by a stray thought. "Do you know this Megan person?"

"No, not really," Blair answered quickly, as he turned away from Jim, his eyes searching the small crowd for Taggart.

The prime followed his companion. He wondered if he should tell him that he knew he'd just lied about not knowing Megan, but then he dismissed the thought. Had it been important to the kidnapping, Blair would have told him. Jim was surprised at how sure he was of that fact. The prime stored away these details until later, as he walked down the hallway next to a very animated companion and a bemused Taggart. Both men exchanged an amused glance and reached for the oblivious Blair at the same time to tuck him out of the way of the men rushing in with a stretcher.

* * *

Jim woke up unrefreshed. It had nothing to do with sleeping in a Prime guestroom at the Tarsus base. It had more to do with the fact that he had missed Blair. To describe the feeling to anyone else but a prime would be impossible, but the best analogy in his mind was that there was an absence of input and his subconscious kept searching for it, hence his tossing and turning.

Heavy-eyed, he made his way to the cafeteria. It was just past six in the morning, but the kitchens were humming. He was surprised to find Taggart at a table with a cup in front of him.

"Morning," Jim called out to the man. Taggart looked as bad as he felt. Jim felt a rising territoriality. Taggart had better have been missing Megan and not Blair.

"Rats!"

Startled, Jim looked around. He could've sworn he'd just heard Blair speaking.

"I'm not functional this early."

Jim felt his spirits lift. His comp was close by.

Grumbling about dawn and brightness, Blair stumbled into the cafeteria and made a beeline for Jim even though his eyes certainly appeared to be closed.

Jim smiled at the almost sleepwalking man. "Let me guess. Coffee--double strong--black and sugar."

"Gimme, gimme!"

Towing Blair gently by the arm, Jim led him over to the coffeepots. Selecting the pot marked double espresso; he filled a large mug to the brim.

Two heaping spoons of sugar, barely a stir and he was handing it to the softly chanting comp next to him--who practically inhaled it.

Still silent, Jim made another cup of coffee and added it to the tray he was carrying. 

The two men moved toward the beginning of the breakfast bar. Jim's eyes roamed over the buffet. As he reached out to pick up a fresh doughnut, Blair cautioned, "Only one of those, just two eggs, forget the bacon, and some fruit."

"Huh?"

The now remarkably awake comp ignored the stunned prime and continued speaking. "I know algae shakes might be a foreign concept, but we'll work up to that."

It had to have been the thought of algae shakes that shocked him so much that Blair was able to fill his plate with exactly the food he'd specified. Or it could have been his morbid curiosity with Blair's putrid green shake that he allowed himself to be led to the table and proceeded to eat his meal, all the while watching Blair. 

The comp inhaled another half cup of hot coffee after finishing his algae shake. It was only then that Blair looked around the cafeteria and noticed Taggart at another table. Waving energetically he summoned the man over.

"Joel, you're looking pretty rough. How're you holding up?"

"I couldn't sleep. Went down to the infirmary before I came here but Fulton's not conscious yet. I ran into Simon on my way here and he mentioned that two seekers, Rafe and Brown had re-established their connection with their comps late last night but they didn't see anything. Carl's our only hope now."

Blair sipped his coffee. "We'll find her. I promise. You both have something he wants so there's a chance."

The silence between the men might have grown uncomfortable had Simon not entered the cafeteria. Ignoring the food, he grabbed a cup of coffee and walked quickly to their table.

"Jim, Blair, Joel, good morning." Simon snagged a chair from the next table and pulled it closer to the group.

"They're still analyzing the drug. It seems to be made up of a number of rare plants, some of which we don't even know if we have on file."

Blair looked at Jim. "I think we should do a little more investigating into Brackett's past. Some of them must have come from Peru."

"Good luck," Joel murmured sourly, "from what I hear, he roamed all over northern and southern Pan America."

"While they're looking for clues, Joel, maybe you can continue your testing which was interrupted yesterday?" Simon's tone was bracing.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Taggart said without enthusiasm.

"You know..." Blair began then stopped, his brow wrinkling, his expression going vague.

"What, Sandburg?" Jim asked with exaggerated patience when no more was forthcoming.

"What, man?" Blair appeared annoyed as he emerged from his fugue.

"You said 'you know' then nothing else. You know what?" Jim asked carefully.

"There was this guy who lived about two hundred or a hundred and fifty years ago, some wealthy so and so who built this replica of Machu Pichu as his private home."

"Where?"

Blair pushed his hair back from his face. "Somewhere in northern Pan America. I dunno guys. It's just something I remember reading somewhere."

"Where're you going with this?" Simon asked.

Blair's tone was distracted as he tried to grasp at some elusive thought. "I'm just thinking that Brackett sent three boxes with clues. Alex is gone, right? He needs the two of you for something."

"Uh huh," Jim encouraged.

"Well, he's not going to take all of you down to the real Machu Pichu. And that's when I started thinking of replicas. We'll have to check, but this guy was one of your original robber barons--owned everything and built some hidden fortress in the northern forest for his wife. He never lived there. His wife died before they moved in."

Blair drained the last of his coffee. "I think Brackett found it and hatched a plan to create a super-prime."

"Damn! I don't need this on my watch," Simon groused. "Blair, you and Jim get on this, I'm going back to the infirmary to see how things are going. Joel..."

"I know, I know. Testing center."

Simon gave a brief smile. "Let's meet in a couple of hours and compare notes."

* * *

Jim was pacing in his small office and glaring at the oblivious comp who had been working steadily at the console.

"I won't get it done any faster with your staring."

Jim stopped in mid-stride. "Hmmph, I'm going to the infirmary to check on Carl, Rafe and Brown."

"Yeah, why don't you do that," Blair responded absently.

It was a disgruntled prime who met with the chief of Tarsus outside Carl Fulton's private room.

"Comp banished you?" Simon teased.

Jim shot him an ice-blue glare.

"You know Jack used to send you on spurious errands when he wanted to work on something in private."

The comment drew a small smile from Jim. "I knew that, but played along with him anyway."

Before Simon could speak, Cassie emerged from Carl's room. She looked tired but triumphant. "I did it; he's awake."

Simon and Jim followed the redhead back into the room.

"Hey guys." For a formerly unconscious man, Carl Fulton looked fully rested.

"Do you remember anything?" Simon asked from his position on the side of the bed.

"We went to the Wolf and Thistle; we'd heard that the runaways had been there."

"There were no runaways. It was a false report," Simon reported grimly. "When I contacted the parents of the supposed runaway, I discovered they were paid decoys."

"When Buster and I left, we were both shot with a paralytic. I saw him go down in front of me." For a moment Carl looked anxious, "Cassie told me he hasn't been found."

"Don't worry about him right now," Cassie soothed.

Jim's expression was granite at Cassie's callousness. He was so thankful that a match between them had not worked. "What else, Carl?"

"I surfaced briefly. The only thing I could remember was silence."

"White noise generators?"

"No, true silence. I was somewhere alone on a bed with an intravenous tube. I guess the medication that was keeping me under ran out and I surfaced for a few moments. I tried to contact Cassie, but I couldn't." Carl shifted in the bed. "I'm sorry guys, I can't help anymore."

Leaning down, Simon patted Carl's shoulder. "Don't worry about it; get some rest. I'll be back later to check on you."

Leaving the room, Jim waited until they were in the elevator and out of earshot before he asked Simon, "Do you think Blair's theory might be correct?"

"Correct or not, it's the only one we have at the moment. Brackett took Carl but he didn't hurt him. He has Taggart's friend and Buster. I think he's going to try to get you and Taggart in exchange for Buster and Megan."

"Damn, Simon, we have to stop him before he gets that far. I can't--"

"What? What's going on?" Simon was concerned.

Jim rubbed his cheek self-consciously. "I think, umm, I'm all territorial towards Blair. I think I've formed, umm, a bond with him."

"That's great--" Simon began, but noticing Jim's head shaking, he asked, "That's not great?"

As the elevator doors opened, Jim wedged his foot in the groove to prevent the door from closing, "No, it's not great. He wants to bond with Sam, and definitely not me. He'll reject the bond once he finds out about it."

"You don't think he knows about the bond already? He is one of our best comps after all."

"Simon, I've bonded before. I know what to look for. Blair hasn't. So, no, I don't think he's aware that we have a bond." 

Simon sighed.

"Exactly."

Jim gestured and both men exited the elevator and moved down the hallway to Jim's office.

* * *

Taggart shifted again which provoked another warning from Jim Ellison.

"Taggart, would you stop squirming. Brackett is a top rated prime, no telling if he can hear you at this distance."

"Sorry, Ellison, but this is not my idea of a fun time, lying on a mountainside at sunset trying to get into a crazy prime's compound. Anyway, I'm afraid of zoning."

Blair popped up from the other side of the prime and made an aborted move to touch Taggart. Aborted because Jim, who was lying between both men, pressed against Blair and prevented him from reaching out.

"Simon, this place looks deserted and rundown on the outside but that's only the facade. Someone has done some work. I'm also picking up three distinct heartbeats," Jim spoke into the mike positioned near his mouth.

"Megan..."

"I'd feel a lot better if I could hear four heartbeats, Taggart, but let's move in carefully." Jim continued speaking into the mouthpiece. "Simon, we're going to try to get closer."

Making their way towards the re-creation of an ancient Incan city, Jim thought about how much money it had taken a century ago to build several pyramids to scale in the middle of a northern temperate forest.

The last seven hours had passed in a flurry of activity once Blair had tracked down the information on Heinrich Blorch. The actual location of Blorch's legacy had been lost, but it appeared Companion Sandburg was something of a genius at unearthing arcane bits of knowledge.

Like a dog on the scent of a juicy bone, Blair had searched through forgotten archives until he found a topographical map of the area and pinpointed the exact location of the compound.

Jim stopped short; every hair on his neck standing on end. He looked around carefully. Through the dense foliage he saw the tiny arrow poised for release had he taken one more step.

"Wait," he said softly. "Simon, there're some traps here. I think Brackett put them in to alert him to any unexpected company." 

"Fall back, you guys."

"Simon, I think we should try to find and set off all the traps at the same time," Taggart volunteered. "It's the best chance we've got to surprise him."

There was silence for a short while as Simon thought about the plan from his position at the base Tarsus had set up a few kilometers distant.

* * *

Simon looked at the twenty men he was commanding. They had been flown from Cascade to a long-unused landing strip a few hours ago. They had trekked through the wild terrain for the last four hours so that they would not alert Brackett, all on a hunch from a very gifted companion.

Coming to a decision, he nodded. They might never get another chance like this to snag Brackett. Calling his men together, he quickly divided them into teams of three and had them set off in different directions to circle the compound.

Twenty-five minutes later everyone was in position and Jim, Blair and Taggart were waiting for Simon's signal.

Over each of their communicators came the softly worded "Go, Go, Go!"

Jim picked up faint echoes of the other teams detonating the safeguards Brackett had put in place, but he had used his time wisely while waiting for the other teams to get into place.

Plotting a course to the main tower which afforded his team the most amount of cover, Jim started forward once Simon gave the signal to advance.

Moving unerringly to the largest structure in the compound, a replica of Machu Pichu, Taggart shouted something unintelligible and took off at a jog.

"Stop, Taggart!" Jim commanded.

It might have been the absolute command in Ellison's tone, but Taggart stopped short, barely a hair's breath from a trip wire.

Pointing down, Jim gestured, but that didn't prevent him from hearing the distinctive click of a scope settling into place from somewhere inside the large pyramid that had been the destination of his group.

His first thought was the safety of his guide and action followed thought as he twisted and tugged Blair down with him to drop on the open ground, somehow managing in the process to keep his comp underneath him. 

"Ooof," Blair grunted. "What is it with you Ellison? Next time you plaster yourself against me, make sure there's a soft bed on the other side."

Distracted for a moment by the non sequitur, Jim blinked, not sure whether the comp was joking or serious. The whiz of a high-powered laser scoring the ground less than a meter from his head blew any thoughts but 'Protect the comp' out of his head.

Peripherally, he noticed Taggart had dropped to the ground when he did and was now positioning his body to afford the nearly completely hidden Blair maximum coverage.

The laser whined again, but this time the target was another group on the far side of the compound.

As one, the two primes caught each other's eyes. They realized they had to get the comp to safety. Crouching, they set out at a low run for cover at the base of the large pyramid, all the while making sure that the protesting comp never presented a target.

Jim noted that the shooter was firing randomly at the groups around the compound but had yet to get a clear shot at the three of them hugging the mud-brick wall at the base of the large temple.

Jim cocked his head, and Blair's hand swept up and rested on Jim's shoulder.

"Hear the laser and block it out, Jim. The men outside--ignore them. Now what do you hear?"

"Two distinct heartbeats. They're either asleep or drugged. With this noise, I would bet drugged. The other heartbeat is that of our shooter. I'm not hearing anything else." 

Taggart inched away from the two men, checking for an entrance.

A low hiss caused Jim to turn around. Blair's hasty admonition to 'dial it down' was welcome as Simon and the team moved on to phase two of the assault.

"What's going on Taggart?"

"Feel this."

The sensitive pads of Jim's fingers followed Taggart's, and he felt the straight edge of a seam where there should be none. 

"I think this is our cue to enter." There was a savage gleam in Taggart's eyes before he pushed against the door with all his weight.

The door didn't budge. He redoubled his efforts.

Frantic to get inside, Taggart pressed and pushed the slender seam at the same time and was rewarded. The door slid to one side to reveal a dark hallway lined with tiny fiber optic lights.

"I can hear Megan's heartbeat," Taggart whispered.

As soon as the three men stepped through the entrance the heavy door slid smoothly shut behind them.

The two primes formed a solid wall, keeping the comp behind them.

The comp placed his hands on a shoulder of the two men ahead of him. Side by side the primes advanced slowly down the dimly lit corridor.

Hyperaware of the comp, Jim turned his head and noted Blair's finger resting lightly on Taggart's gray shirt.

Jim said softly, "I'm not picking up any listening devices."

"The hallway is also sloping upwards, barely noticeable but there's a gentle rise," Taggart added.

"Did you notice it's also curving," Jim pointed out.

"I think the builders did this to maximize space," Blair muttered.

As Jim hummed a low encouraging rumble, Blair continued, "Inner rooms probably come off this outer hallway. Lots of rooms at the base and as the pyramid rises to a point there're probably fewer rooms closer to the top."

Taggart whispered, "I'm hearing a strong heartbeat."

Jim nodded in agreement, and the two primes moved closer to the inner wall. Experience with the first door had them hunting for a hidden seam. Quickly they found it. Jim swept Blair behind him and palmed his laser rifle. Taggart positioned himself on the other side of the door and employed the same press and push motions he'd used on the outer doorway, he was only slightly surprised when the door slid open smoothly.

A quick peek in the room confirmed there was only one person. The room's furniture was basic: a twin bed in surprisingly good condition considering the ancient exterior. Taggart stepped back even as Jim and Blair walked into the room.

"It's Buster," Jim said.

The prime and comp rushed to the still figure in the bed. Jim glanced up as Taggart left the room.

"Be careful, Taggart. Wait for us."

The man chose not to hear and kept on walking away.

Jim moved back to the doorway and split his attention between Blair, who was examining Buster, and Taggart who was casing the inner wall further down the corridor.

"He's unconscious, breathing fine and not restrained in any way. He's probably been exposed to the same drug as Carl," Blair summarized.

Just then Taggart whispered from his position down the hall, "I've found another room."

"Wait!" Jim said as harshly as he could, given that he was speaking softly.

"What?" Taggart muttered impatiently.

"The shooting's stopped."

Taggart cocked his head. "Megan may be in this room. I'm hearing a strong heartbeat."

"Move quickly then," Jim cautioned. "I'll listen for our shooter."

Taggart was getting the hang of opening the doors in the pyramid, and he had the door opened in less than ten seconds.

"It's Megan."

"Get her in here, Taggart. We can defend more easily if we're in one room together."

Taggart disappeared into the room and Jim heard the shifting and heavier breathing as he lifted Megan. Taggart was carrying his burden to safety, such as it was.

Just as he reached the door where his companions were standing there was an ominous click of warning as a small object bounced against the outer hallway wall. A moment later a concussion grenade went off. Blair's whispered warning to dial it down was almost unheard in the reverberating noise in the small hallway. With the comp at his shoulder Jim just rocked back on his heels. He had had time to heed Blair's warning and dial down.

Taggart was less lucky. The noise drove him to his knees. Barely conscious, the prime held onto Megan's lax body.

"What's this? Two primes and a comp. It must be my lucky day." Brackett brought up his laser. "I have a little project going and I needed two more items and look what dropped into my lap. I'm such a lucky man." Noticing Blair half hidden behind the prime, Brackett shook his head slowly. "Now, you are not invited to this party." Blair was very aware that the prime next to him was seething, but with a tiny red target painted on his chest he didn't move.

"You have the Crystal Tower, don't you?" Blair tried to step around Jim, but an iron grip on his arm kept him in place. Brackett ignored the question, preferring instead to focus on Taggart. "Put the woman inside. Then come back out here." Taggart hesitated, but Brackett prompted again. "If you don't move, Mr. Taggart, either the woman in your arms or the comp behind Jim finds out just how deadly this new laser gun is."

Taggart's facial expression was a study of indecision. Bracing himself, he secured his grip on Megan and rose to his feet. In order for him to get through the narrow doorway Jim and Blair had to step out fully into the hallway. The primes, obeying genetic imperatives, were loath to expose the comps to any more danger.

Jim stepped out reluctantly and tilted his head slightly. Taggart's glance in turn flickered to the room and back to Jim's face. Blair, being the only comp in the hallway and hampered by poor eyesight, was the only one to miss the signal.

Brackett didn't. From down the corridor he drawled a warning, "I do hope you primes aren't trying to use your limited intelligence to plan something stupid."

Gritting his teeth, Jim said, "Brackett, you have a sight pinned to my chest. I'm not stupid."

Jim kept a firm hold on Blair, the prime didn't so much move into the hallway as he shuffled two steps while hugging the wall. This allowed him to keep Blair protected, a fact the comp was resisting in fierce silence. But Jim's grip was unbreakable.

Taggart waited until Blair was just past the doorway then began moving past the comp. Their brush past each other could barely be considered a scuffle, but Taggart spat, "Watch it comp!" Blair flared back in surprise at the venom in his tone. Jim growled--and lunged around Blair reaching towards the other prime. The result was Jim and Blair facing Brackett, and Taggart safely in the room with the unconscious seeker and comp.

Too late, Brackett realized that the seeming altercation had simply been a ploy for both primes to get the door closed. The laser shot did nothing to the heavily reinforced door. "Well, hell!" Brackett was vexed. "That was just not a nice thing to do, Jim."

Jim bared his teeth in sympathy.

"Hmm, well, it doesn't matter. This can still work with three primes," Brackett said.

"Do you have a clue as to what you're doing?" Blair asked. "What you're attempting to do, to make an uber-prime unit by bonding to other primes instead of to a comp, is foolhardy." Blair was heated.

"What do you know about it?" Brackett asked idly, while motioning Jim to walk back the same way they had come a short time ago.

Blair, who was being pushed ahead of Jim, answered loudly, "Yeah, I know a lot about it. Do you think comps are brainless idiots? I am ABD in anthropology." 

"ABD?"

"All but dissertation, moron." The last word was said sotto voce, but both primes heard it.

"So what? I'll put my knowledge up against your years of study," Brackett claimed.

"It appears that you'll be putting your life and the life of my prime on the line also," Blair observed while continuing to move steadily along the downward spiral.

"You know what. Now it's time to lose the comp. Stop right here, Jim."

Realizing that he only had moments before he was separated from the prime, Blair begged, "Brackett, what you're trying to do is wrong. Bonding to another prime was done hundreds of years ago, but only under dire circumstance when the tribe was in grave danger. Almost always one or more primes knew it was a sacrifice, and they would go into a permanent zone out, catatonia, once the crisis had passed. Are you willing to risk that?"

"Shut up!"

Sensing weakness, Blair continued, "Think, man. This was done to primes only as a last resort, when the danger was great. The bond broke when one of the primes in the group descended into madness. I did one semester in a mental institution for burnt out primes. Trust me, that is not where you want to be."

Brackett scoffed, "I'm willing to risk it. Open the door behind you comp and get out!"

Blair tried one last appeal. "Listen to me, Brackett. In untrained hands, the Crystal Tower is also a weapon. I can help you."

"Help? What's in it for you?"

"Seeing that my prime doesn't die. What do you think?"

"I think not. I had extensive lessons from a shaman. Oh, he was unwilling at first, but addicts need their fixes." Brackett smiled unpleasantly. In the dim lighting his features appeared cadaverous. "Now, Prime; let the comp go."

"I'm not letting him go. Who knows what you've got waiting for my comp outside," Jim snarled.

"You two must take lessons from Simon Banks. You're as stubborn as he is."

As Brackett kept one hand with the laser sight leveled on the other prime's chest while he used the other to fumble around behind him.With a smooth whirr a door slid out from the inner wall and closed the three men off from the hallway leading to Taggart and his charges.

"Another door?" Blair gasped.

"The man who built this was a real eccentric. It took me months of exploration to find all the hidden gadgets," Brackett said conversationally.

"They were still working?" Blair asked ingenuously.

Jim contributed nothing to the conversation, while Blair bought them time.

"They were--this isn't going to work, comp. Let's try something else."

Again, Brackett fumbled behind him, and a few steps away another door slid open on the inner wall. This room was lit, and the light spilled out into the hallway.

"Move." He gestured to the prime and comp.

"What's in there?" Blair asked, injecting his voice with a nervous tremor.

"Is that Alex's heartbeat I'm hearing?" Jim asked.

"Got it in one, prime. She's going to be our new partner."

"You know, that's really funny, Brackett. Of all the comps Simon tried to pair you with, you're choosing Alex." Jim's tone was scornful.

Brackett's expression twisted. "There was only one comp I wanted, and she's dead. So you know what? I don't care about what Banks wanted to do for me."

"Get in there." The laser sight settled on Blair. "Not you comp, just the prime."

Realizing he had to do something because his comp was now being threatened, Jim acted. In a quick rush he dove toward Brackett's legs, counting on the fact that it was the greatest distance from Blair and Brackett would instinctively lower the gun as he followed his actions. One long skid later Jim connected solidly with the man's feet. With surprise on his side, Jim had a moment to reach up and grab the gun and pull it away. Brackett used his suddenly empty hands to punch at the other prime's head. Finding himself immobile, Brackett turned his attention to freeing his lower body, tugging ineffectually at the prime turned limpet.

The fray would have gone on longer had the whine of the laser gun not stopped the pitched battle.

"Move away from each other." Blair's tone was hard.

The primes did not separate.

Infusing his voice with command and using all his training as a comp, Blair commanded, "I said. Move!"

Slowly, Brackett straightened, the red laser sight now painting a tempting target on his chest.

Jim released his hold and came to his feet.

"Get something to secure him, Jim."

Before that directive could be accomplished, the outer door behind Blair slid open. Simon's voice boomed, "Tarsus, lay down your weapons."

* * *

Epilogue

In the end, the clean up was disappointingly easy. Alex was confined at Conover; Brackett was in a maximum-security prison where Blair hoped the jailers had thrown away the key; the Crystal Tower had been returned to the Peruvian city state, and according to Joachim, De Gran Alcance ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Megan had finally regained consciousness. Though, neither she nor Joel shared any personal details about her previous kidnapping, Blair could see the strong thread of friendship that bound them to each other. Both had left for Australasia the day before for an extended vacation. 

So, if everything was great, why was he sitting in his dorm dreading his interview with Simon Banks?

Blair sighed. It had been less than a week since he'd met Jim Ellison. He had been ready to bond with Samantha, but life had thrown him a curveball. It didn't matter that he'd checked his stats against Jim's, and the computer's recommendation was that they should not bond. Blair knew that. At least intellectually he knew that, but innate honesty told him that he could not bond with Samantha now. He had already committed himself to a prime.

All that was left was to tell Simon that he was burnt out as a comp. He was in possession of one half of a useless bond.

Since they had come back to Tarsus two days ago, he had not seen Ellison Prime. Inquiries had been stonewalled by Rhonda who told him that Jim was 'away on prime business.'

Taking a deep breath, Blair checked the time and scrambled up from the bed. He'd meant to be on time for once, but daydreaming had cost him precious minutes. He was going to be late.

Skidding to a stop outside the wooden door after his mad dash across the courtyard and fast ride in the elevator to the penthouse, he took a deep breath and lifted his hand to knock.

"You know, you comps are all the same."

"Huh?" Blair felt a smile breaking out on his face and turned his head to look at the prime lounging against the wall near the elevator.

"Where'd you go? Come from, that is?" Blair swallowed and tried again. "Rhonda said you were away on business."

Blair's eyes drank in the prime striding toward him.

Jim ignored the question. "I said, you comps are all the same."

Ellison Prime reached the comp and tapped Blair on the chin with his index finger.

Looming over the shorter man, Jim mused, "About five days ago I met this comp. Banks assured me that we weren't compatible, but that pushy comp went ahead and fostered a bond between us. In fact, he all but told me I needed a bed the next time I got close to him. What do you think I should do?" 

"I did no such--"

"What do you think I should do?" Jim leaned closer.

Blair caught on. Appearing to give the question due consideration, it was only a moment or two before he lifted his cheek and brushed against Jim's jaw-line. "I think you have to show him the bed."

Banks' door swung open. He took in the prime and comp outside his door, locked in a tight embrace. "Well, what are you two loitering outside my door for? Blair has to check out of his dorm now that he's bonded and the two of you need to register for active duty and--"

Simon stopped speaking and closed his door. The two men weren't even listening to him. Eventually, he was sure, they would move. In the meantime he had other primes and comps to match.

 

 

* * *

End 

Of Mazes and Megalomania by Maigret: mlogick@hicom.net  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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